How to Pay a Life Debt
by Phoenix Torte
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy wants to call on the life debt Harry owes her. It just wasn’t what he was expecting. Please review!
1. Prologue: You Want Me to What?

**Fandom: **Harry Potter  
**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Title: **How to Pay a Debt

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco  
**Rating: **G (for the first chapter)  
**Status: **Ongoing

**Summary: **Narcissa Malfoy wants to call on the life debt Harry owes her. It just wasn't what he was expecting.

**Warnings: **Post-DH, eventual slash

Harry Potter looked up expectantly as the fireplace flared green. A blond, glacial woman's head appeared in the flames. Her gaze was cool as she surveyed him.

"May I come through, Mr. Potter?"

"Of course, Lady Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly. "You're right on time."

Narcissa Malfoy unfolded herself from the fireplace, her icy blue robes unmarred from the ash Harry was always covered with when he flooed. Even so, she adjusted her robes so that they fell in fine, smooth folds.

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable?" Harry suggested. With the slightest inclination of Narcissa's head, he turned on his heel, and led her through spacious hallways to a rather handsome sitting room. Warm woods and earthy tones clearly showed a masculine touch. Harry beckoned to two lush armchairs in front of the fireplace, both richly upholstered in chocolate brown leather. A deceptively simple table stood between the chairs, but from the elegant lines, the table was expensive.

"You have a rather lovely home," Narcissa said demurely, once she had taken a seat with graceful, fluid movements.

"Better than what you expected?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Narcissa's face was bland, polite. "I had not expected a manse like this to be your style. A cozy home with a white picket fence, perhaps, would have been more to your likening."

Harry laughed. "Yes, but that sort of home is so hard to keep reporters away from."

"Ah, yes," Narcissa murmured. "I had heard of your distain for the press."

Harry smiled, just as an old house-elf appeared with a tea service. He set the tea on the table between Harry and Narcissa before popping away. "Sugar with your tea?"

"No, thank you," Narcissa declined, watching as Harry poured and served the tea. She took the hot teacup into cold hands, and sipped politely. The move was more common than holding the cup by the handle, but Narcissa felt too cold to rely on old-fashioned pureblood manners just at that moment. In any case, Harry made no mention of the lapse in manners, and simply seemed content to sit there and sip his own cup of tea. Narcissa eyed him with a touch of wariness before speaking.

"Surely, you have been wondering why I wished to speak with you?"

"Oh," Harry said mildly. "I figured you would bring it up eventually."

Narcissa gave a sharp nod. "I have come to call upon the life debt that you owe me, from saving your life in the forbidden forest."

"I was wondering when you would, though I would have thought that testifying on your son's behalf, and yours, would have been enough."

"Although your testimony was most gracious, simple exculpation from war crimes is not enough to settle a life debt."

"Then, what would you have me do, Lady Malfoy?"

She drew in a careful breath, cautiously setting down her tea. "I believe that there is another benefit to my request, in that it may allow you to repay the debt to another."

"You mean Draco?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"He didn't give you up to the Dark Lord when you were captured and brought to Malfoy Manor."

"And I returned the favor by not leaving him to a painful death in the Room of Requirement, and by saving him from friendly fire from Death Eaters." Harry said, eyes glittering. "As far as I am concerned, my debt is repayed. Hell, he might owe _me_ the debt."

"Then please, merely for my sake…a mother's sake, and the debt you owe me."

Harry touched his temple, rubbed it briefly, before droping his hand. "What would you have me do?"

"My son has been…depressed. The loss of face the Malfoy family has suffered has affected him deeply. He rarely leaves the Manor nowadays."

Harry looked bewildered now. "Lady Malfoy, I am not a Healer. I cannot treat depression, although I might be able to find a Mind Healer…"

Narcissa laughed bitterly. "The Healers would not treat him, or they would spend too much time heaping blame on him for his supposed crimes to help. No, I need you, Mr. Potter."

"And how would I help? He hates me."

"I don't think he does, not as much as he pretends."

Harry snorted. "Do you _know_ the man?"

Narcissa raised the corners of her mouth. "In any matter, that is your job. I want you to draw him out of the house, show him that life's still worth living. Have him seen with you, so that perhaps the world can forgive him for having a Death Eater as a father. Make him feel safe and happy again."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

When Narcissa smiled, it was all too much like a shark. "I expect you to do that, Mr. Potter, by courting him."

Note: Sorry the chapter is short, but I like to leave you hanging. Mwa-ha-ha!


	2. Chapter One: A Bevy of Letters

**Fandom: **Harry Potter  
**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Title: **How to Pay a Debt

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco  
**Rating: **PG-13 (for language)  
**Status: **Ongoing

**Summary: **Narcissa Malfoy wants to call on the life debt Harry owes her. It just wasn't what he was expecting.

**Warnings: **Post-DH, eventual slash

**Chapter One**

Draco was late to breakfast again. He staggered in bleary eyed from a late night spent entirely too much with Ogden's Firewhiskey, and sat at the long formal dining room table. It was as formal as the table could get, with over half of the gold trimmed chairs sold off. Once his hair and robes would have been immaculate, but not his robes sagged on him like old skin. His hair, once sleek and styled, hung in long, lank strands about his face. He sat alone at the table-Narcissa had already eaten at a decent hour, and Lucius languished in an Azkaban cell.

The house elves were familiar with his antics by now, and a hangover potion appeared on the table before any food did. Which was a good thing really, as the scent of food would have made him rather nauseous. '_Not that the potion was any better in that regard,'_ he thought as he forced the thick slimy potion down his throat. Once the world finally stopped spinning and he was able to concentrate, toast and poached egg popped into existence in front of him.

It was near the end of breakfast that Narcissa deigned to grace him with her presence.

He heard the tell-tale rustle of her robes from the entrance of the dining room. Looking up, he noted that the robes she wore, though fine in quality, were starting to look a bit threadbare. They hadn't had the opportunity to get many new things, for themselves or the Manor.

"Ah, Draco," she said, the reproach in her voice making her voice as dry as leaves in autumn. "How delightful to see you with us before two in the afternoon. I take it that you had a pleasant night?"

Draco set his silverware down with a clatter onto his plate. "You know that my nights are never pleasant, Mother."

Narcissa nodded, crossing to a chair opposite Draco. She sat down with all the grace of a reigning queen. Her voice softened infinitesimally. "More nightmares, Draco?"

"Of course, Mother," he said, fingers curling around his glass of pumpkin juice. "I can never escape them."

"Perhaps if you could tell me what they were about, I could…"

"No," he said. "They are not the sort of dreams that can be helped with a nice sob about my feelings. I'll live with them. I have so far."

"Drinking and sleeping and sulking your life away with that dead look in your eyes cannot be considered living, let alone coping. You are killing yourself with these antics," she pointed out.

"Then let me die!" he roared suddenly, throwing his glass across the room. Narcissa was very still, a pale glittering statue. "It's not as though I have anything to live for, anyway."

The silence was only broken by the heavy sound of Draco's rapid breaths. Narcissa did not move but to raise her hand to her throat as though to keep in the words that begged to come out. The tense tableau of a frozen mother and son with averted face was broken when a pure white owl flew in the window, a letter attached to its leg. Surprised to be getting any mail lacking the vitriol red of a Howler, Draco did not take the letter until the owl pecked at his hand in reproach. He was surprised to see that the letter was addressed to him. Pansy and Blaise knew better than to contact him by any other method than the Floo system.

'_What's this about?'_ he thought. The letter was heavy with fine paper, the envelope a delicate creamy color, and the texture of the paper beneath his hands was reminiscent of better times. Even when Draco or his mother needed to send out correspondence, they did not use such high quality paper-it was too expensive nowadays, and though they still had the Manor and a small portion of the fortune they had once had, they lived frugally to conserve their funds.

"Who is it from?" his mother asked. Draco started. He had almost forgotten that his mother was still there, waiting to hear about the letter. He hummed in answer, and picked up a butter knife to slit the envelope flap.

The knife clattered to the floor as he read the missive.

"Mother," he said, his voice high and panicky. "I think Harry Potter just asked me for permission…"

"Yes?"

"He wants to _court_ me!"

"Oh," she said. "How lovely!"

"What?!" he spat. "This is _not_ lovely! Harry Potter, the bane of my existence, asked me for a-these things usually end up in marriage!"

Narcissa beamed rather uncharacteristically. "Yes, but think of all the benefits that the Malfoy name would garner with Harry Potter by your side!"

Draco spared her a rather impressive glower. "I'm glad you think so highly of your only son, Mother. Perhaps it would be more appropriate for me to take my suitors in a dark corner of Knockturn Alley."

"Draco Malfoy!" she shrilled, dots of pink high on her cheeks. "I hope that you aren't suggesting what I think you are suggesting!"

"Technically, Mother, you suggested it first."

Narcissa's face was rigid and tense, eyes narrowed and sharp as blades. She slowly rose from the table in barely controlled movements. Deliberately smoothing her robes, a tense silent moment filled the air. "Do whatever you like, Draco," she said, with her head high and haughty. "I'm only your mother. Merlin forbid that I try to better your life."

"And on that note, _do_ make your dramatic exit."

Narcissa's glare at that could flay the skin from a Dementor. She spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, with even the swish of her robes sounding angry.

A few minutes later, Draco left the dining room, to wander out in the manicured gardens, his mind reeling from the missive that he had just received. It was more likely that Severus Snape would take up ballet dancing than for Harry Potter to betray any romantic interest in him. Even if Draco was gay (and he was, as many a Slytherin housemate could attest to) he had never heard of Potter being gay. Somewhat an unusual event considering how the press practically worshipped him. His love life was not sacred to the ravenous public, and no previous hint of homosexuality had leaked to the press.

And even if Potter was gay, he would hardly turn to Draco for a quick one-off, let alone a more serious Courting. He still had proof of Potter's hate for him carved deep from neck to navel. Even if Potter hadn't hated him in Hogwarts, he still bore the Dark Mark on his arm. Ex-Death Eaters weren't exactly the catch of the century.

Potter's contact was most likely a trap of some sort, whether for nothing more than a cruel prank or for some sort of revenge for the friends he had lost in the war. Perhaps he still suspected Draco of illegal activities, and hoped to play the vigilante. After all, even if Potter had taken up the quaint philanthropist act, he hardly had a job, and all the charity work probably got tedious. Perhaps lounging about had made him restless.

Pacing in the gardens did nothing to help him. He would have to send a letter back to Potter-if only to attempt to ferret out some answers.

* * *

Harry stared bemusedly at the letter he clutched in his hands. Malfoy had written back surprisingly fast, even if the letter wasn't as accepting as he though it would be. Then again, Narcissa had made it rather clear that Draco wasn't to know that she had enlisted his…services.

_Potter,_

_I don't know what the hell you are trying to pull, but kindly go prank someone else. I know better than anyone else that you wouldn't be caught dead shagging a Malfoy, and I highly doubt that __you are gay __have suddenly changed your mind in that regard._

_Cheers, Asshole._

_D. Malfoy._

Well, Harry had always liked a challenge, though he wagered that Malfoy would present more of one than he had reckoned on. He did note the crossed out words that had only appeared when he had cast _appericium_ on the letter, a habit he had picked up to make sure there were no hidden messages from his friends on the letters he received.

It would have been better if he could have had more time to establish some sort of homosexual leanings in the newspapers, to lessen Malfoy's suspicions, but Narcissa had been adamant that he act quickly. Besides, he had the idea that his sexual leanings didn't matter to Narcissa, as she apparently thought that Malfoy would be receptive to his advances.

Ah, well. It wasn't as though he had been particularly drawn to any female admirers, any way.

Harry rummaged in his desk. Malfoy's letter had come to him in his study, and Harry had a present that he had purchased for the Courting ritual. He dashed off his reply and sent it off with a grin. And wouldn't Malfoy be so mad, to see that Harry wasn't giving up that easily?

* * *

Narcissa selected a rich, decadent chocolate from the tray of truffles in front of her. They went so well with her favorite champagne, and after the hard planning she had indulged in, she felt like she deserved a treat.

Draco wouldn't understand, but a mother always knew what was best for her son, and the plan was progressing so perfectly. Her smile dimmed a little when she remembered the dreadful scene at breakfast, but it was all necessary for Draco's happiness.

She sighed dolefully and licked chocolate off her fingers. Hopefully, he would realize the depth of her sacrifice later. Even if Harry Potter was the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world at the moment, it still irked to ask the man who put her husband in Azkaban for a favor, especially one that required said man to shag her only son.

Narcissa sighed again. A mother's work was never done.

* * *

_Dear Draco Malfoy,_

_Since you have not indicated in the negative as to whether I could Court you or not, I have enclosed the first Courting gift. _

_As to my interest in you, I can only say that I had hoped to find out if our heated animosity towards each other in school to translate into a heated relationship of another kind. I mean to press my suit most seriously and earnestly, as I would not use such a time-honored ritual for frivolous pursuits such as childish pranks._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Harry Potter_

Draco could only gape. The letter had come on the coattails of evening, far sooner than he had expected a reply. If he had expected any at all.

The letter sounded surprisingly little like Potter. Certainly, a given level of formality was expected for Courting, but Draco was definitely not used to Potter being formal, of all people.

The gift he had sent was unexpected as well, though logically Draco knew that gifts were expected when Courting. It was wrapped in tan and green paper with a forest motif. As he watched, a deer picked it's way through the lush clearing on the paper. It was surprisingly beautiful, and Draco was careful as he removed the wrapping paper.

But even the paper was not as beautiful as the tiny blown glass dragon in the box. As he watched, the sleeping dragon uncurled, sending out a delicate tendril of violet smoke. Although the glass was clear, delicate hues of silver and amethyst tinged the dragon's wings and belly, and inlaid emeralds made up the eyes.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. It had been too long since anyone had given him a gift, let alone one of such beauty.

But no doubt Potter knew that, and meant to play on his weakness for lovely things.

Surely, Potter did not mean his advances, after all.

It would be unwise to just jump headfirst into a relationship with his enemy.

Draco took a deep breath, and summoning a quill and parchment, began to write.

* * *

Note: Man, I feel like its been ages since the last chapter, and then this one was only about five pages…I'm such a slow writer! Bad Phoenix Torte!

Dobby: No, Master Phoenix Torte! Only house elves should bang their heads on the floor. Dobby will stop you!


	3. Chapter Two: First Dinner Date

Chapter Two

It was unfortunate for Harry that Draco decided to accept his Courtship offer by way of public announcement in the Daily Prophet. It was even more unfortunate that, being the saviour of the wizarding world, the announcement was run on the very first page of the news rag.

Harry knew this because Ron slammed the paper down in front of him after he had stormed out of the Floo in Harry's home study. Since he slammed it upside down, Harry merely made sure that the cup of tea at his elbow on his desk was well out of the way of Ron's impending explosion.

"Something the matter, Ron?" he asked.

"Yes, something bloody well is the matter!" the angry redhead spat. "Can you believe the nerve? Draco Malfoy's gone and put an Announcement of Intention in the paper! For you! Like you would ever initiate a Courtship with him."

Harry flushed and glued his eyes to his blotter. "Erm."

Ron's jaw dropped as the colour drained out of his face. "Please, tell me you _didn't_," he whispered.

"Ah, I can't rightly say I haven't," Harry said with a great deal of discomfort.

"But-but why? Malfoy's a complete git."

Harry chewed on his lip, still unable to look Ron in the eye. He was unsure of how to answer that one. The photo on the paper on his desk showed Malfoy giving the camera a tight smile and glancing away. How was he going to explain this? Ron was under the impression that he loathed Malfoy, an impression that wasn't entirely wrong. If Lady Malfoy hadn't basically forced him into this, he would have never considered pursuing a relationship with Malfoy, no matter how fit he happened to be. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were already well informed of his preference for the same sex, but that still didn't explain an attraction to an old enemy. For a brief moment he considered telling Ron that it was a complete farce…

…but that would only lead to Ron marching up to Malfoy manor and forcing Lady Malfoy to release him from his obligations. However, Harry kept his word, and Harry had already promised to keep his-motivations- secret. So Harry took a deep breath and prepared to fib his arse off.

"I, ah, had a change of heart about Malfoy."

Ron stared at Harry with incredulousness. "Harry, you hate his guts."

Harry met Ron's eyes. "Maybe in school, when he was being an utter prat, but I really think he's had a change of heart." Harry paused for a moment, but decided to bravely soldier on. He might as well lay it on thick at this point. "And even when I thought he was a prat, I always thought he was rather…fit. I would try for just a date at first, but it's been made clear to me that he, er, feels uncomfortable in public places, and further more, I thought a Courtship would make it clear that I was serious, not just playing a prank. Courting him is my excuse to get closer to him."

"Yeah, and married to him! Hey, wait…does that mean you've been talking to him if you know that he doesn't like to go out into public?"

Harry winced at the level of shock and betrayal in his friends' voice. "I've just exchanged a few letters" technically true, "and I meant it when I said I think he's changed."

"Malfoys don't change their spots. It's impossible."

"I know that this is a bit of a shock, but it's not like I'm trying to betray you or something. I just want to find happiness too."

"Yeah, with a pointy ferret. Look, just…I can't be rational about Malfoy. Sorry, mate."

As Ron stormed out of Harry's house, Harry felt a wave of loss sweep over him, as though he had just lost something very important. Malfoy's note, delivered a mere thirty minutes later, only intensified the feeling.

~-~-~

Harry put a lot of effort into his wardrobe that night. After all, he wanted to impress Malfoy and sway him into his arms. Or at least, Narcissa Malfoy wanted him to impress Malfoy and sway him into his arms. As it was, his ill fitting muggle clothes and Forth Year dress robes were barely cutting it.

Luckily, Hermione had dragged him out to Madam Malkins and insisted on fancier "dinner" robes and such. She had been going through a stage right before marrying Ron where she insisted that since Harry was so often seen in public and photographed, he obviously needed better clothes. The robes, ridiculously elaborate in Harry's opinion, were still nestled in the cloth over bags they came in, stashed in the back of his closet.

Harry hated that the first time he wore actual decent clothes were for Draco bloody Malfoy.

With a sigh, he stepped into the Floo, giving the name of the prestigious wizarding restaurant he had made reservations at, The Golden Salamander.

"Mr. Potter," the maitre'd hurried up to him, a smarmy smile on his face. "Such a pleasure to see you here…your table is right this way."

"Has my dining companion arrived yet?" Harry asked.

"No, sir. Shall I bring out the wine now?"

"Yes, please. Ah, your house Sauvignon Blanc."

"Very good, sir."

The maitre'd hovered for a moment after seating Harry, but finally Harry was left to sip his wine and cast his eye over his opulent surroundings. He had taken care to get a lavish restaurant for his first date, as Malfoy didn't seem the type to 'slum' it. Also, Lady Malfoy had informed him about Draco's dislike of being in public. Harry thought Malfoy might therefore appreciate the more private setting of an exclusive establishment, rather than one where it was crowded and gawkers abounded.

As he waited, Harry laid his linen napkin in his lap and began to fiddle with the silverware. His gaze ran over the room a few times, looking for Malfoy. He was just beginning to suspect that he had been stood up when he spotted a flaxen haired man walk through the door, his unease telegraphed in every movement of his body. Harry forced himself to relax as he raised a hand and beckoned Malfoy over to his table. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but made his way to the table.

Harry forced a smile onto his face, reminding himself that one of the conditions that Lady Malfoy had set for the repayment of his life debt was that Malfoy remain ignorant of his true motives in seeking him out, and believed Harry to be genuinely interested in him. Harry stood as Malfoy approached so that he could stand at Malfoy's chair and guide him into his seat.

Malfoy almost seemed startled at this show of chivalry, but restrained any impulses he might have entertained of snapping at Harry. He gave a brisk nod of his head, and sat. Harry reached for the wine bottle and poured Malfoy some, figuring that they would need some social lubricant.

The unctuous maitre'd appeared at their elbows a moment later. "Have you gentlemen decided on he menu for the night?" he asked.

"Escargot to start, and blanquette de veau for the main course," Malfoy said briskly. "You, Potter."

Harry hastily ordered the same thing, glad in a way that Malfoy wasn't dithering around helplessly. At least he didn't have to worry about awkward small talk to begin with-from the looks of it, Malfoy wouldn't put up with awkward silences.

He was right.

"Potter," Malfoy said bluntly. "I am concerned about your motives in inviting me to join in a Courtship with you."

Harry smiled, willing himself to relax. This was where he put his acting skills to the test, to keep Malfoy from guessing his real motivations. "Ah, yes. I wanted to get to know you a little better. Everyone can change, after all. However, you never seem to leave your manor, so I thought that if I initiated a formal Courtship, you might be curious enough to meet with me."

Malfoy seemed insulted at that. "Are you saying that you started a Courtship that you don't feel seriously about?"

Harry winced a little, realizing how that might have sounded to a pureblooded wizard that set great store by formal rituals. "No, of course I'm taking this seriously. But it's not as set in stone as something else I might have done, should our personalities be incompatible after all. We did fight a lot in Hogwarts, and you might not have been willing to let bygones be bygones."

"You could have just asked me on a date."

"Yes, but you would have been unlikely to respond. You most likely would have thought it to be just a joke, and ignored any overtures I made. A Courtship, on the other hand, is highly public and prone to legal action if not handled right. You would believe more in my sincerity if I started a Courtship rather than ask you on a date." And boy did those words gall.

Malfoy looked as though he might have believed Harry, though. The light of suspicion had not gone out of his eyes, but he looked slightly less hostile. "If you just wanted to 'get to know me', a Courtship wouldn't be necessary. Simple overtures of friendship would have sufficed-enough offers and I would have been curious enough to take you up on them."

Harry felt his cheeks stain red. "I didn't have a _friendly_ relationship in mind. My intentions were of a more romantic nature."

Malfoy openly gaped at him. Harry hastened to explain, feeling mortified at the things he was forced to explain. At least he had half truths to draw from.

"I first noticed that you were rather fit in sixth year. I was obsessed with you, and at first I thought it was merely suspicion and hatred. However, more…recent evaluation of my motives have led me to believe that those feelings of obsession were really the beginnings of an adolescent crush."

"I-I'll have to consider that, Potter." Malfoy rose, nodded once, and strode away.

Harry looked after him, confused. Surely he hadn't said anything that would cause such a usual reaction in Malfoy. He would have more expected protestations, not a simple dismissal. What on earth was Malfoy thinking?

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, and the short chapter. I promise to update soon!


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